As America faces today the
seeming inevitability of Iran becoming a nuclear power, I am reminded of a
similar backdrop some twenty-six years ago when I decided to become a Muslim.
It was 1979, and I was in my second year of law school at the University of
Virginia when an enigmatic and almost mystical figure named Ayatollah Khomeni
burst upon the world scene like a whirlwind force. With the nation shocked by
daily TV images of Americans held hostage by Khomeni’s Iranian followers, the
Ayatollah became for the media and the American public the personification of
Islam. Against this backdrop, my journey into the faith took place.

I had already begun to
question the point of my going to law school. I loved the study of law, the
beauty and serenity of Charlottesville, and the prestigious institution founded
and designed by Thomas Jefferson (“UVA”). But at the same time, I felt like I
was subtly being programmed for a life as a “silk stocking” lawyer, that is, to
represent the rich and powerful. My black consciousness and years of social
activism naturally rebelled. I felt my soul seeking something permanent,
something beyond the material existence of a legal career, something greater
even than race consciousness. My mother, instinctively, I suppose, began
sending me letters laced with Biblical quotes and lessons.

Perhaps by destiny, while a
law student I also taught part-time in the history department at UVA, and among
my students was a teenage African-American from Philadelphia named Farid Akkani,
whose character, studiousness and political consciousness stood out from the
other students like a bright light. I discovered that he was a Muslim, and as I
sought to learn more from him about the faith, I became his student. He gave me
several books about Islam, and also the Qur’an, the Muslim scripture.

While absorbing these, I
began hearing and reading about an African-American Muslim lawyer in Virginia
named Sa’ad El-Amin. After receiving an MBA from the University of Southern
California and a law degree from Yale, Sa’ad joined the Nation of Islam founded
by Elijah Muhammad and made famous by Malcolm X, who later broke from the
Nation’s teachings of Islam. When Elijah died in 1975, the Nation essentially
split, with the majority following Elijah’s son, Warith Deen Muhammad, and the
others Louis Farrakhan. Sa’ad, who oversaw the Nation’s legal and business
matters, departed for Richmond when Warith Deen, who directed the followers away
from the teachings of his father and towards orthodox Islam, began selling off
the Nation’s vast business holdings.

Sa’ad then shook up Virginia
with his bold and brilliant socially conscious litigation. He had a reputation
for fearlessly suing white cops and major institutions, and was considered one
of the premier trial lawyers in the country. He was the “peoples’ lawyer” –
their champ - in every sense of the word, and after he came to UVA and gave a
rousing speech on the societal obligations of lawyers and why they should seek
to be respected rather than respectable, we connected.

While Sa’ad was exemplifying
the black nationalism and social activism I had always associated with Islam
because of the Nation and Malcolm, Farid was teaching me about the five pillars
of the faith, including the pilgrimage to Mecca that transformed Malcolm, and
the unique prostrating manner in which Muslims pray. After instructing me on
the religious tenets and rituals, Farid, sensing my spiritual quest for
something deeper, had me seek out a professor in UVA’s religious department,
Abdullah Aziz Sachedina.

When a week later I entered
Sachedina’s office, located in one of the campus’ stately historic buildings, I
entered Islam. His voice was calm, his mannerisms peaceful, and his demeanor
humble. He was born in Tanzania Africa to parents of Persian ancestry. He had
studied at the foremost Islamic universities in the world, published several
books, spent considerable time studying in Iran, and was among an elite group of
worldwide Muslim leaders.

Almost every Thursday for
over a year I would visit and assault him with questions like a fresh young
lawyer: “Why is it necessary to pray five times a day if God is around all the
time? What’s wrong with eating pork if properly cooked? What’s this issue with
Jesus? And what makes the Qur’an so special?” He would simply smile and then
ask, “What do you think?” – reminding me of the Qur’an’s saying that Islam “is a
religion for people who think.”

One early morning, some
sixteen years after graduating and returning to St. Louis, I wrote to him about
the faith:

Dear Professor Sachedina:

“ I was thinking about you
late last night…I thought about my final night in Charlottesville, as I as
preparing to leave the somewhat protective realm of student life and venture
into the world as a lawyer, as a Muslim.

You will remember that I
arrived at your house very late that night. I will never forget sitting around
your kitchen table, with you dressed in that splendidly vibrant white robe,
looking God-sent, and discussing, one-on-one, God. And discussing what he
expected of me as a Muslim. I can remember telling you my fear of keeping and
maintaining my faith in a world where we are so misunderstood and even hated.

It was what you said then
that made me think of you last night. You told me to be a Muslim in everything
I do. Whether it’s going to the store to get a loaf of bread, you said, or just
cleaning the house, be a Muslim. Have God in your heart…

I want to thank you for
teaching me that the love of God is greater than any religion, and that as great
and wonderful as His scripture is, it will never be greater than the revelation
Allah brings through a person’s heart…

I thank you, my teacher, for
being my guidance to the center of His heart, for teaching me that Islam was not
the end, but a meansto love Him more dearly.”